Chapter 182

"No, I simply wanted to come in person and see what this legendary god among humans is truly like."

"Lin Mu" was not surprised that his disguise had been uncovered. "Truly beyond my expectations…" He clapped his hands twice, as if in admiration.

"Lin Mu is an A-rank Awakened. You controlled him from such a distance—I couldn't even detect where your true body is." Yang Yi stared unblinkingly at Lin Mu. "You're formidable."

"Merely a minor trick. I merely split off a thread—how should I put it? Your world calls it soul? Spiritual awareness? Consciousness? … I controlled him. Even if he died right here, it wouldn't harm my true body." Lin Mu smiled faintly, exuding perfect gentlemanly poise, yet his tone carried hidden meaning: "I dare not come before you myself. After all, I fear you…"

Yang Yi raised an eyebrow, puzzled by his use of the word "fear."

"Actually, you don't care about them at all, do you?" Lin Mu casually pointed at the frozen people around him. "These evil-doers, these victims, and those young girls upstairs—you don't care about any of them!"

"You pretend to be a moral saint only because you don't want to sever ties with humanity, don't want to appear as an outsider. You fear being too different and being rejected. You fear they'll fear you. You feign approachability. You strive to blend into this crowd of stupid, greedy, ignorant humans—just to gain a pathetic sense of belonging…"

"Someone once said the same thing to me," Yang Yi interrupted him. Her face showed no anger, even held a hint of nostalgia. "But these words are so outdated. Isn't there anything fresher?"

"Lin Mu"'s eyes blazed with unprecedented excitement, his cheeks flushed with fervor. "This journey was worth it—even if I sacrifice a thread of my soul… it's worth it…" He silently repeated this in his mind, as if only by doing so could he express his inner turmoil.

At the same time, his smile widened further, stretching beyond the limits of human expression, becoming increasingly grotesque and unnatural.

"I feel it!"

His voice fluctuated between shrill and hoarse, as if his human body could no longer contain his agitation. "You despise these humans! —No! You hate these humans! —No! You don't merely hate them—you hate their vile nature!"

"You pretend to be a moral saint. You treat them with such gentleness only because you hold them to impossibly high expectations. What you truly love is an ideal human that doesn't exist in this world—a metaphysical concept of humanity, a perfect embodiment!"

Yang Yi had been watching his performance with cold detachment, but suddenly, her breathing faltered slightly.

"Lin Mu" caught this tiny movement instantly. He grew even more ecstatic, as if he had uncovered the ultimate truth. His smile and voice now displayed a dissonance no human body could produce.

"Just now upstairs, did you truly care about those girls' fates? If they hadn't tried to profit from their beauty, how would they have been lured here? And those victims of human experiments—don't you think they got what they deserved? Who made them believe the promises that would awaken them? Who let themselves become test subjects blindly? Isn't this their own stupidity?"

"Look! You only pity perfect victims—just as you only love perfect humanity, only love the idealized concept of humans. Any flaw, no matter how small, you cannot tolerate!"

"You're willing to sacrifice everything for the imagined human—you've saved them multiple times, even at the cost of your own life! But when you return among them, when you interact with them, you grow weary, bored, and begin to despise them—even hate them!"

"Because you've never felt the true beauty of real humans! It's all your imagination! All your own fabricated illusion! Your rule against killing, your image as a moral saint—they're nothing but self-deception built upon this fantasy!"

"Lin Mu"'s words struck Yang Yi like arrows, nearly stealing her breath.

Her lips felt dry, her lungs suddenly starved of oxygen, the air around her turning suffocating.

No one had ever so clearly pierced through every hidden corner of her soul—some truths she herself barely understood, merely buried beneath the surface of her consciousness, hidden away until now, when a stranger ripped them out mercilessly and laid them bare under the sun.

Yes, she felt little emotion toward these human experiments. Though she witnessed the victims' suffering and felt some sympathy, it was like scratching through boots—it lacked real weight.

She intervened here only because of the basic fairness and justice owed to humanity.

Even fleeting thoughts had crossed her mind: that some cruel, inhumane, immoral human experiments might be necessary—if the victims' sacrifices could help humanity master more Awakening technology, then they held meaning. In times of crisis, extraordinary measures are justified.

One of her Seed Project proposals was to accelerate universal human Awakening, so that when the critical moment came, humanity could choose to ally with demonic gods to ensure the survival of human civilization.

In times of crisis, one can no longer cling to old moral codes—like the ban on human cloning, which exists because cloning challenges traditional ethical norms. Out of respect for human dignity, individual rights, legal dilemmas, and social impact, morality and ethics have indeed hindered the further development of cloning technology.

But before the survival of all humanity, such concerns are like a starving man worrying whether eating his pet violates morality—morality and ethics are luxuries of peacetime. Survival by any means necessary is the only goal.

Just as the Nazis conducted inhumane human experiments during WWII—unfair to the victims, a challenge to human ethics, a desecration of justice and fairness—yet one cannot deny that these cruel experiments advanced humanity's understanding of the human body and greatly propelled biology and medicine.

Humanity must make sacrifices. She herself had already prepared to become one. So when she saw these illegal human experiments, she no longer felt the same anger or dread as before—she sensed their necessity.

In chaos, harsh laws must be applied.

In times of crisis, extreme measures are justified.

Perhaps these victims didn't deserve such treatment—but she thought of more: Should ethical restrictions on human experiments be relaxed? Could the most heinous criminals be put to use?

Now, I've become just like those cold-blooded politicians in high places… she thought silently. Is this another form of "alienation"?

She had always believed herself an ordinary person—but when she bore the weight of all human survival, when she stood atop humanity's pinnacle, could she still truly empathize with ordinary "humans"?